Love Me Tender
by NeverHadDreams
Summary: Little known facts about people in the Twilight series, brought to you by their significant others.
1. The Tiger and The Butterfly

**This is something completely new to me, I've never tried this... style of a story before. I don't know. Please review and tell me what you think, as always, anything is welcomed. **

**The Tiger and The Butterfly **

_Twenty Little Known Facts About Jasper Hale, as Told By Alice Cullen _

**One. **He can feel emotions, but that doesn't mean he _wants_ to. Late, late, late at night, in the shelter of their own room, she can watch him tear himself up over things that he has no control over. She is the one that has to assure him all is well, all is fine. She is the one that has to reach into his still, cold heart and warm him up.

**Two. **He isn't proud of the man he has become. Jasper can't look into the mirror and see someone that he is happy to see staring back at him. All he can see is the fear that has saturated the eyes of the victims he has claimed.

**Three. **He loved Maria. Yes, he loved her. It wasn't the same kind of love like he feels for Alice, but it was love. It might not have been pure, not gentle and sweet, but it was love. It was the kind of obsessive love that made people fall to their knees and cry for release from its bonds. But it was love.

**Four. **He is a gentleman. As Southern and perfect as they come. He is everything Alice has ever searched for. All wrapped into the blond, tall, perfectly built vampire Alice has come to find as deep as the dark ocean.

**Five. **He wouldn't make love to her at first. He was afraid of her. Afraid of how small she was between his hands, of how fragile her neck was when his lips were sliding down it. He couldn't touch her, for fear of causing her pain... Now, this made Alice laugh. As if he could cause her pain.

**Six. **He wasn't as strong as everyone like to think. His skin may have been impenetrable, but not his feelings, not his view of himself. Small things, small words, could harm him. Sticks and stones couldn't touch his bones, but words would always hurt him.

**Seven. **He remembered. "I love you, Jasper." Her voice was soft and soprano in his ear.

"How can you love me?" She remembers him shaking his head.

"Because," she can recall telling him. "how can I not love you?"

**Eight. **Jasper wasn't a killer, Jasper wasn't a bad person. Jasper had had bad luck, yes, but he wasn't, in any way, a mean or spiteful vampire. Jasper was a _human_. And that was what Alice loved about him.

**Nine. **Carlisle was his father in all ways. Jasper had never had a father. His father had died in an earlier battle with the Indians. It had been uneventful, anticlimactic. But Jasper had never been able to see another Indian and _not_ feel hate.

**Ten. **He was set to be married before Maria changed him. Her name was Claire. She was a beautiful, French girl. With flowing black hair, crystal green eyes, and smooth, olive skin. She had come over with her family, met Jasper, and fallen in love.

**Eleven. **She, Claire, had had a miscarriage.

**Twelve. **He had never gotten over it. Because Maria, was the one who took her life. She had killed Claire, because the girl was competition. She was the woman that held Jasper's heart, the first woman that Jasper ever told about what he was. And he had kissed her. Resisted her blood. Because he hadn't seen any other way out. He had had to be with her as a human, because it was the only thing he knew. When Maria had set her body, cold and still, in front of Jasper, something inside of him had changed.

**Thirteen. **When he told Alice his story, he sobbed. His body, large and imposing, had shaken with sobs too large to hold behind his marble lips. He had shuddered and shook, pleaded with her to go back, take it back, make him a man again. He didn't want this. Alice had held him, simply stating that he was all she had ever had.

**Fourteen. **His love was obsessive, silent, and all consuming. Because that was what he knew.

**Fifteen. **He wasn't going to go vegetarian until Alice had seen him kill a small human girl. She could remember, vividly, the way Jasper had played with the small form of the little girl. Dancing with her, pretending to care, right before he bent down to kiss her cheek. Instead, he leaned over, and sunk his teeth quickly into her throat. She couldn't look at him for weeks.

**Sixteen. **He was trapped in himself. Everything he felt was bottled, because if he let out what he was feeling, there wouldn't be any room for what others were thinking. He felt so much, held in more, and was always ready to explode.

**Seventeen. **Edward was the first person that had talked to him. Edward had walked out into the woods with him. Her bronze haired brother had said two words. "I know." He murmured. From that moment on, they spent their nights in the woods, on the cliffs, in the lake. Talking.

**Eighteen. **Peter and Charlotte were his only friends besides the family. He hadn't been taught to make friends. He had been taught that friends were harmful, loving, they could tear you down, not bring you up.

**Nineteen. **Their first wedding was with Carlisle and Esme only. Jasper hadn't wanted anyone to see him. He had been worried about backing out at the alter, scared of what the others would think.

**Twenty. **Alice loved him more than anything. Plain and simple. She didn't know how think badly of him, she didn't know how to hate him for what he had been made to become. She knew how circumstances could change a person, how they shaped and molded the marble of a vampire's skin. When Alice sat with him at night, she would lay her hands on his shoulders. "How can something so good," Alice remembers asking, "be bad?"

**Thanks for Reading and Reviewing. NeverHadDreams **


	2. I Don't Trust Myself With Loving You

**I Don't Trust Myself With Loving You **

_Nineteen Little Known Facts About Alice Cullen As Told By Jasper Hale _

**One. **The Future is completely irrelevant when you have a past, as big and dark as the ocean, stretched behind you. If you asked her, she would tell you that this was punishment. A give and take situation. She could see what decisions people were going to make to get them to new places and make new things happen, but she couldn't see how she had gotten to be like this. She couldn't see where she had turned wrong, what had officially thrown her into the asylum where she was made a vampire. That is all that matters to her. The Past. Why have a Future, when you don't have a Past?

**Two. **_Mary _Alice _Brandon _Cullen. She had a completely different name when he met her. Mary had been dropped when they were together for some time, just as the World was moving toward the modern age they were in now. Brandon had been dropped for Cullen when they got married for the first time. She had always told Jasper that a name was like a skin, and if she planned to live forever, then she needed to have a skin that fit her right.

**Three. **Everyone called her a fairy. That had to come from her first trip into the Meadow with Edward. The night had been fragile, the weather not having the capability to decide if it wanted to rain or stay sunny. It was the middle of July, clouds hung low over her. She had, of course, immediately loved the Meadow. It was beautiful, she had come back and told Jasper, it is perfect. And it was, he agreed. At half past nine, the dragonflies had finally made their appearance. They had fluttered around little Alice, landing on her and in her hair, so she had stood, laughing and spun in the middle of the field of flowers. Just like a fairy.

**Four. **Alice shops obsessively for two reasons. One: She really enjoyed the activity. After having nothing for so long, she was glad to finally have something. She used it as a balancing thing. If she couldn't have the past in memory, she wanted it in clothing. She had the past in clothing. The second reason was: Her need for approval from her new family. When she had first met the Cullen's, she had picked out Rosalie's next wedding dress. She looked beautiful and everyone loved the dress. Alice liked the acceptance she earned for this small task. And she kept at it.

**Five. **"_Dance is the hidden language of the soul." _Which is why, according to her, she danced. She said that when she danced, she felt connected to something. She felt like a part of something other than this family. When she dances, she feels like there is something else out there. Somewhere. Waiting for her.

**Six. **Alice believes that some people's eyes are the windows to their souls. She believes that his eyes are the windows into the heart of a Southern Cowboy. And she is sticking to it. When you need to know something about someone, she says, you should sit with them for a moment, get them good and vulnerable, then look into their eyes. She says you will find it.

**Seven. **Bella is the way that Alice lived out her human life. She had never been friends with someone that changed the way Bella did. Someone who was soft and warm. She loves Bella now that she is a vampire, of course, but she never had a human life, and Bella was the way she lived that out.

**Eight. **When Bella told Alice about James, she was curious. She wasn't frightened, wasn't mad. No. The little fairy was _curious._ So, being Alice, she went looking for information. She raided Carlisle's study for books, talked to him and Esme and any other vampire she has ever met and known, just to see if they knew something about the sadistic vampire that had tried to kill her, not change her. She didn't find out anything. But that didn't stop her.

**Nine. **To this day, years later, she still knows nothing about him.

**Ten. **The first person, besides Jasper, to really connect with Alice at the Cullen's house, was Emmett. He reminded her of the neighbor boy who used to climb the big apple tree in the backyard with her. Same dark curls, same strong jaw. When asked about him, she puzzled for a moment, chewing her lip, her usually bubbly personality nonexistent, then she looked at Jasper for a long moment. "I loved him." She marveled quietly.

**Eleven. **Biloxi, Mississippi. She has returned there once. Maybe, twice. It is where she was born, where she was raised and grew up. She reasons that it is her home.

**Twelve. **She sat on her mother's grave for one day. Just one. When she found it outside of her hometown. When she came home after that, she didn't say anything for awhile. When he asked her what she was doing, she said she was thinking. Later, she came to Jasper. "Do you think she loved me?" Jasper had nodded. "Yes. I'm positive."

**Thirteen. **Don't underestimate her. It is one of her worst pet peeves, being underestimated because of her size. She is just as agile and strong and beautiful and capable, as any other vampire.

**Fourteen. **She remembers, when she was at the asylum, when her parents came for dinner on Sunday. They would take her out of the dark room to somewhere light. Then, they would strap her wrists to a chair and let her parents talk to her. She said that her mom always cried, small and broken sobs. Alice says that is the good thing about being like her, you don't have tears.

**Fifteen. **When she finally could see her reflection, she broke a mirror with a small hand. To this day, no one knows why.

**Sixteen. **She kisses his scars when the memories are too much for him to handle by himself. She picks up his arm, curls into his chest, and begins to kiss. Taking away the pain is what she calls it. When he is breathing the heaviest, the surest his memories are going to swallow him, she calls him back with silent pleas. "Come back, come back to me."

**Seventeen. **Alice doesn't believe that being a vampire is atonement for all of the wrong things we've done. She uses Carlisle and Esme as her example. "They're too good, Jasper, for this to be atonement. What do they have to atone for?"

**Eighteen. **She detests conflict with no reason. She absolutely can not stand it.

**Nineteen. **She is his rock in the storm. If he didn't have her, if he didn't have her small hands and gentle caresses, he would have given up on this existence long ago. Because he loves her that much. All that he does is to bring himself closer to her. If he didn't have her, he wouldn't have believed that he had a soul. Because, and this is what she tells him, "We all have souls. Some are just a little more broken then others, they have more pieces. Jazzy, we're gonna put yours back together." And he can't doubt her.


	3. Another Heart Calls

**Another Heart Calls **

_Eighteen Little Known Facts About Emmett Cullen as told by Rosalie Hale _

**One. **He was muscular, yes, but sometimes, he felt inferior. Everyone in the family possessed _something. _Something important and worthwhile and helpful. Not him. What was strength good for? Edward could read minds, Jasper could manipulate emotions, Carlisle was a doctor concerned for humanity, Rosalie was beautiful, Esme was a mother, Alice could see the future, and Bella was immune. How, with all of those powers, could strength even compete? He could do nothing for humans or they would know. And, at times, this made him so mad at himself that he tried to kill himself. Because what would there have been to miss?

**Two. **He loved her so much. More than life itself, more than grizzly bears, more than beating Bella at arm wrestling, but there were times, when he knew that he wasn't enough. He wasn't as beautiful as Edward was, and he wasn't as agile and graceful as Edward was either. He could hold her, but he couldn't really _hold_ her. She would look into his eyes, wide honey eyes, and not see him. And he knew. She could never love him like she could love Edward.

**Three. **He fought for her approval everyday. Not as much as he should have though.

**Four. **When he was fifteen, he packed a bag and told his mom that he needed to leave. He couldn't spend his life in the south. He saw himself reaching for bigger, better things. His mom had disapproved and kicked him out.

**Five. **But, just before she kicked him out, she told him he was going to hell for being a bad son.

**Six. **Emmett was soft and loving and a gentleman (most of the time), because that is what his mother would have wanted him to be. Had he grown up around her, she would have pushed him to be the best man he could be. Respectful and kind and sweet. And he tried. He tried so god damn hard.

**Seven. **He had been in love with a girl. And she had been beautiful. On some days, he thought she was more beautiful than Rosalie. When he thought this, saw her in his mind's eye, Edward would look at him for a long moment from where ever he was. Sometimes, he would come around from his own dark thoughts long enough to pay attention. Edward would just nod his head and furrow his brows. It wasn't until Emmett's third year of living with the Cullens, that Edward's thoughts on the subject became known to him. "Shes not dead." He whispered.

**Eight. **So he'd gone back for her. Smooth, pale skin, rosy cheeks, lush lips, long eyelashes, black hair, blue eyes, and the singing voice of a goddess. When he had walked back into his town, at night, the moonlight had been painting her skin a beautiful white. He had walked in, slowly, like a ghost, he had stood at her window. As her chest had risen and fallen, he had wished that he still had her. That he still could look into her blue eyes and tell her the truth. He had wanted to tell her exactly what he felt and knew. So, he had climbed through her window, pressed his lips to her forehead, watched as she sighed in something like content, and wanted her so much it hurt.

**Nine. **Rosalie didn't know. Rosalie didn't care. Rosalie didn't ask.

**Ten. **She, the girl, the girl with raven hair and blue eyes, hadn't mattered until he had heard what happened to her. Because when you heard that the girl you loved, was dead, that you couldn't have saved her, that she was taken by a different vampire, you felt that forever. And, when he looked at Bella, the most recently changed, the closest to their humanity, he still felt it.

**Eleven. **He wished, more than anything, that he was still close to his humanity. Would it have felt different, been easier to lose, that pain, if he was human? Humans seemed to forget about their pain faster than vampires. They could make themselves busier easier, they could create distractions. But then, that day in the woods, when Jake had learned of Bella's impending marriage, he had known. Humans were just like vampires and werewolves and whatever other mythical creature you could have thought of. There was no line between how different or acutely you felt the pain of loss.

**Twelve. **_Caroline, I miss you. Everyday. When I think about you and I, everything comes back to me. Its like I can remember exactly how you felt next to me, pressed to me, loving me. And I miss you so much I can hardly stand it. What we shared... I know thats the truth. I know that you loved me. I know that I love you. What I am about to do... with some other woman, I am sorry for. I loved you, I love you. You are beautiful. You sing beautifully. And, if the truth is what you want to know, I still hear you. I hear you in how the wind whispers through the trees and how the birds chirp in the mornings. I know how they feel. Happy and free. I wish you the best in everything. I love you. I will always miss you. Emmett McCarthy _

**Thirteen. **She had burned it. Rosalie had set in on fire. The same dangerous fire that simmered in her eyes.

**Fourteen. **He loved her. There was no way around that fact.

**Fifteen. **Jasper, quiet and scared of messing up for fear of losing Alice, was the first person to really connect with him. He knew how it felt to lose something that you loved so much you would have given your life just to see that person smile. Jasper had looked at him, scarlet eyes, and whispered two words that had set Emmett free. "I understand."

**Sixteen. **Those vows were said to the girl he missed. He promised to spend eternity with a woman, he promised to give himself to her, he promised to make her happy. But he wanted to promise someone else. And it hurt like hell.

**Seventeen. **Rosalie was beautiful out, but not in.

**Eighteen. **Eventually, he learned to love her. He learned to accept all of the beauty that was on the outside and forget about her lack of beauty on the inside when he was with her. He learned to dwell on it in far away places. He learned to store it. He learned to see that wanting someone else was what kept them together. She wanted Edward, he, the girl with raven hair. And one night, when the light made her hair look dark, her skin look pale, and her voice sang, he saw the girl he had loved one last time. And he leaned over, pressing his lips to Rosalie's. But in his mind, those lips were Caroline's.


	4. Bittersweet Symphony

**Bittersweet Symphony **

_Seventeen Little Known Facts About Rosalie Hale as Told By Emmett Cullen _

**One. **She doesn't look in the mirror and see someone beautiful. She looks in the mirror and sees someone who needs validation. She needs someone to tell her that she is beautiful, validate her, make her feel wanted, make her feel as if she hasn't done everything in her existence in vain. She knows he tries to make her feel as if she is all the things she wants to be. But only one person can make her feel that way... Edward.

**Two. **Perfection, to her, is anything but over rated. Perfection is the only way to ensure that she is not, _can not, _be rejected. No man could look at her, and say, "I don't want her." Its not physically possible for a _mortal _man. Without saying, Emmett knows why she needs this perfection, it is a shield. A shield to protect her from the hurt that another man caused.

**Three. **She didn't hate immortality. Never had. She hated thinking that her beauty may become... Old. Not beautiful anymore. She had always thought that she was a timeless beauty. Never able to fade into time, but women these days possessed an inner radiance. Rosalie didn't possess that same light and sweet aura.

**Four. **"Rosalie, I..." He shook his blond hair. "I gave you this life, and if you no longer wish to have immortality..." His golden eyes were darker today, more of a honey than anything. They reminded her of an old friend's. "Then I can..." He looked at the ground, but Rosalie got the gist of where he was going. She put her hand on his arm, startling him.

"Thank you." Then she had stood and drifted into the twilight.

**Five. **She had not been in love with Royce.

**Six. **She had been in love with Royce's right hand man at work, his best friend. His name had been Garrett.

**Seven. **Garrett was a tall man, six feet at least, with eyes the color of the sun as it sank below the ocean, and lips that were softer than a flower petal, blond hair that he always pulled back at the nape of his neck. There had always been something different about him, though Rosalie could never have placed it. He was handsome, happy, and smart. He always wore button down shirts with the two top buttons undone, exposing an expanse of pure snow white skin.

**Eight. **Garrett and herself had met in private at Royce's bank. He had told her she was exquisite, beyond beautiful, and deserved the attention of a good man. He had told Rosalie that Royce was a bad man, had done bad things. Rosalie had told him that Royce was a gentleman and not capable of doing something so hideous. Garrett had tried to warn her, try to make her run away with him. Rosalie had walked away with her heart in her throat. Not from fear, but for a moment, she had seen something in Garrett's eyes. Had sensed his need to say something else.

**Nine. **"You look... Nothing like I remember." He whispered, his fingers gliding slowly down the smooth skin of her cheek.

She looked over at him, not quite trusting her mouth to make words. She knew this man, loved this man. "Obviously you didn't look too well."

He brought his hands to either side of her neck, pressing his thumbs into the hollows of her throat. "I looked..." He brought his mouth closer to hers, and she remembered how, when she had humanity, his smell could draw her in like nothing else. "So hard at you."

She shook her head, not prepared to feel a foreign pressure against her eyes: tears.

"I loved you, you know." He whispers to her, his lips brushing her ear. "I love you." He breathes.

"I love you." She says. Then, not wanting her history to catch up with her, because that would tear her heart up, she turned on her heel, running through the trees until he was nothing but a distant memory once more.

**Nine. **"Don't walk away from me ever again." He looked at her for a long moment, bringing his lips closer to hers. She wrapped her fingers in his freshly showered, long, blond hair and pulled, urging his lips closer. As a human, how many times had he wished he hadn't the ability to reject her? She desperately pressed against him, letting his lips get closer still. When their lips finally touched, it was nothing as she was expecting. She felt a carnal hunger spring forth in her chest, could feel his need pressing against her. She wrapped her hands around his neck, weaving her fingers into his thick hair. He pressed her closer, his hand going to her chest. He gently touched her breast, his hand large and rough. She arched her neck, her lips sliding from his, gasps eliciting from her lips.

She pushed him away, breathing heavily. "I can't."

**Ten. **He knew. Emmett, she meant.

**Eleven. **In all honesty, she didn't care if he knew. He had pined after a different woman, even when she had thought it impossible for men to reject her. He had written her letters, told her secrets of their relationship. It was payback... Mostly. Some part of Rosalie though, knew that she loved him. Loved Garrett, always would. When he walked away with Kate, he had turned around, his eyes onyx. He caught her gaze for a long moment before she dropped her gaze, grabbing Emmett's hand. It was like a breakup, a hundred years too late.

**Twelve. **Having sex with Emmett, was like holding onto a big anchor. He kept her close to this world, close to the things she was close to. She did love him, really, but more like... More like a new love. And Rosalie knew that you always burned brighter for the people you loved, but couldn't have. She could have him. She knew she couldn't have Garrett. Some times, she would think about what could have happened if things were different. Would she be so not content? Would she want Garrett so fiercely all the time? She knew the answers, no and no.

**Thirteen. **Rosalie had first connected with Alice. The pixie was easy to talk to and she had seen it anyway, so telling her the truth of the matter wasn't much. Just explaining motives that Alice couldn't grasp or even begin to touch.

**Fourteen. **Carlisle's lips had been inches from her neck, inches from taking her life, when she had shot up, breathing heavily. "I can't." She had murmured. Regretting it for the second time in her life.

**Fifteen. **_Garrett, I can't. I know that you've waited a long time to be with me, I know that you have searched. And I want you to want me. I wanted you to want me. I want you. Now, I need to make my relationship with Emmett work. We were made for each other, I know that. He forgives me for things that you couldn't forgive me for. For things I did to your best friend. For sins that I committed. That is important to me. He understands things about me that I don't. He loves me. And I love him. I'm so so sorry, Rosalie _

**Sixteen. **She didn't hate Bella. She resented the humanity that Royce had stolen from her.

**Seventeen. **Emmett knew the only way to get to her would be to forgive her. Forgive the sins she had committed, forgive her for wronging people. And he did. Honestly, he knew how it felt to make a mistake. How heavy that weight pressed on your shoulders, so he knew, better than most, how relieving it felt to have someone forgive you for horrible things. So he held her close, stroking her hair and listened, and when the night was the darkest, he would put his lips to her hair. "I forgive you." He would whisper.


	5. With A Heavy Heart

**With A Heavy Heart (I Regret To Inform You)**

_Sixteen Little Known Facts About Carlisle Cullen as Told By Esme Ann Platt Cullen_

**One. **Throughout all of the witch hunting and preaching his father was a great man. Carlisle has told me stories of times when his father tucked him into bed, reaching down and bringing his blond hair from his eyes. He remembers tugging his father down into countless hugs. He remembers his father being a man who put up a strong front for the public but was exceptionally loving to Carlisle. He remembers his father telling him stories of dark vampires and effervescent angels. Above all though, Carlisle remembers feeling loved.

**Two. **Carlisle was a good listener. He was one of those people who could listen. Listen and listen and listen and recall every word you'd said to them. Not because he was exceptional at remembering, no, but because he genuinely cared. He cared about what had happened to them all, he cared for their trials and tribulations, their strengths and their weaknesses. That was one of the things that Esme initially loved about him. His ability to listen and accept, no judging.

**Three. **Carlisle was trapped, for eternity, at the age of twenty three. Esme, on the other hand, was twenty six. They were the only couple in the whole house where the woman was older than the male. This small fact was overlooked often though. Carlisle, the lines in his face, around his mouth, eyes, made him look older than her. Esme thought that the lines were from spending time alone. When you become vampire, spending time with your thoughts is the last thing you need. Your thoughts allow you to remember everything that you miss. Everything that you have lost. Carlisle, in his own words, hadn't lost much, but what he had lost, meant the world to him.

**Four. **Whenever Esme asked what her name had been, Carlisle would shake his head and pull her close. "You are my world now." He would whisper. Esme, with his voice so laced with love, couldn't doubt him. He wouldn't have changed Esme, claimed her, marked her for his own, if he hadn't thought they could last an eternity. In the back of Esme's mind though, a doubt lingered.

**Five. **Esme, if she thought about it, she could remember a time when they had been on the couch, talking, before they had been together. Esme remembered the name, yanking it from the back of her mind. Seraphina, a strong, beautiful, Italian woman, if Esme remembered correctly.

**Six. **Though they didn't discuss it, Esme knew Carlisle still thought about her. Something about her long locks of brown hair, pale skin, petite frame, and dark eyes had left such a strong mark on him at so young an age. Sometimes, she felt that when he was looking _at_ her, he was looking _through_ her.

**Seven. **_"Seraphina?" His voice was calming and deep, his hand warm as it slid over her body. _

_ She stretched languidly, the blankets pulling away from her young, perfect body. She pressed her body against his, rising to meet his lips. "Carlisle?" Her fingers played down his face, resting delicately in the hollow at his throat. _

_ "I love you." He whispered, running his hand over her hip. Her face broke into a grin, and she rolled over, her naked body sandwiching with his. "I love you--." Her hands went to cup his face, her olive skin glinting in the dying light. _

_ Her tounge darted out, and Carlisle's did the same, willing hers to enter his mouth. Her lips met his, and his hands traveled past her neck to clutch her hips to his. "I love you too, Carlisle." Her smooth face rested against his collarbone. _

**Eight. **Seraphina went on to become a Sparkling Diamond. A stripper. Youth was prized and revered in her profession. Carlisle remembered that how empty he had felt in the moment when she had told him this. So broken and sad. After she had told him this, he had thrown himself into his father's hunting of witches and vampires, trying to turn his mind away from her.

**Nine. **He had gone to see her, once, curious. Esme, somewhere in the part of her mind that she locked away and didn't go into often, tried to convince her that, like a real father, this need to be masochistic, to inflict pain upon oneself, had been given from Carlisle to Edward.

**Ten. **_"Carlisle?" She walked over to him, her mask covering the scars that grazed the upper skin of her cheek. "What are you doing here?" She came over to him, trying to touch him, but her hands fluttered helplessly over his face and shoulders before they dropped to her side. _

_ "Seraphina." He acknowledged. He remembers being surprised by the depth of the chill in his voice. The depth of the indifference he had begun to feel for her. He rose then, grasping her arm to move her from his way. "Excuse me." He began walking away. When he was outside, Carlisle remembers wanting to run, wanting to sprint until he couldn't run anymore, until his lungs collapsed and his legs fell off. He leaned against the brick outer wall of the building, his chest heaving with labored breaths. _

_ "Carlisle!" She came running around the corner, her black silk robe slipping from her bare shoulders. The bustier she was wearing wasn't anything that she would have normally worn. She saw him and begun to slow. "I--." _

_ "You don't need to justify this to me." Carlisle turned from her, trying to conjure back the coldness he had felt, because now all he felt was a crushing pain. _

_ She was now standing in front of him, he could see her bare feet. "I wasn't going to. I just want you to look at me." _

_ His eyes rose slowly, mentally recalling every detail of her youthful body. The smooth curves of her thighs, the arches of her feet. The flat expanse of her stomach, the high peaks of her nipples. Upon looking at her face, Carlisle breathed out ragged. The mask was off. He could see her cupid's bow lips, the clean line of her nose and caramel ringlets of hair, the small scars that marred her cheek. Her hand came out hesitantly, caressing his bottom lip. "Serap--." _

_ "Sh..." She walked closer to him, pressing her body against his. "Tell me that you want me." She whispered, her fingers drifting down his chest to brush across the front of his pants. _

_ Carlisle grabbed her tiny wrist, jerking it away from him. "I am not one of your clients, Seraphina." He stepped away from her. "There is no need to seduce me." He flinched as she drew herself closer to him still. Her lips drew close to him, drawing him towards her with the electric pulse that hummed between them. Then she drew away. _

_ "You don't want me?" Her eyes pleaded with him. _

_ Carlisle was disgusted. "I don't know you anymore, Seraphina." He shook his head. "I can't want someone I don't know." He turned from her, beginning to walk away. _

_ "You don't love me?" Her hand clutched his wrist. _

_ He shook his head, back and forth. "I don't love you, Seraphina." He could see it in her eyes, the process of a heart breaking. Carlisle couldn't bear it, so he leaned forward, holding the back of her neck. "I miss you, Seraphina." He placed a kiss against her forehead, then started the long walk away from her. _

**Eleven. **There were days when he still felt he was walking away from her.

**Twelve. **_Emerging from the sewer, his heightened senses could smell everything it seemed. He could see the world as vividly as if it had been day, but nothing seemed to matter but the sandpaper feeling that was __persistently nudging one part of his brain. It seemed, no matter how hard he tried to push this animal impulse to the back of his mind, it managed to slip forward, through some hole in his mind. He began walking, lurking in the shadows, afraid because he didn't know anything about his new self, his new body. He was inching back toward his father's church when he first smelled it. His head jerked toward it, his lips curling back, and his neck tilting back so he could capture more of the scent in his nostrils. The smell was distinctly clean. Clean and sweet and... cinnamon. It was the smell of the ocean and the kitchen and the vitality that pulsed through human bodies. Before he could control himself, he was pursuing the smell. _

_ He turned corners, avoiding humans, but following the trail. His body knew nothing besides that he couldn't go on without this smell. _

_ When he saw her, he knew it must be true. The woman was beautiful, pale with ringlets of caramel hair. He walked up behind her, his hand catching her small wrist. "Hello. Sister?" His voice filled with the proper amount of innocence. _

_ Someone with bright brown eyes turned around, her chest heaving in a low cut blue dress with no sleeves. "Carlisle?" Her eyes widened, her hands coming to touch his face. "Oh Carlisle! I knew you'd come back!"  
He tried to push through the fog, tried to figure out who she was, but her wrists were singing with blood inches from his lips. He opened his mouth, gasping as his nose skimmed her wrist. "Sister." He breathed, his lips suckling on the pulse in her wrist. _

_ "Oh Carlisle." She cried silently, her fingers clutching him closer to her pliant human form. To him, he seemed fragile. He knew that, with a flick of his wrist, she could be dead. If he could move bricks and push through walls, this must be the truth. _

_ She moved her lips to his forehead, pushing his head closer to her neck and something inside of his very being snapped. He moved his lips to her neck, pretending to kiss her, before sinking his teeth through the fragile skin surrounding her jugular. _

_ Her sharp inhale of breath was all he knew before his world fell away. Her blood made his body come alive. He could feel the life drain from her, entering him, and he felt strong, powerful. When she collapsed in his arms, Carlisle could feel the sluggish, difficult pounding of her healthy heart. She was close to death, but Carlisle didn't possess it in himself to stop. He dropped to the ground with her, clutching her body closer to him. After a time, he felt sated. _

_ Laying her body back on the cement, he could feel himself humming. _

_ "Carlisle... Carlisle... Carlisle..." Her voice was faint, almost too faint for his new hearing to pick up. "I love you." She mouthed, her full lower lip caught between her teeth. _

_ It was then, like a shock of lightning, it hit him. "Seraphina?" He could hear her heart slowing, her lungs losing the battle of retrieving oxygen, her brain struggling with coherency. "No... No... No..." His eyes widened as he pushed his hand over his mouth. "No. No." _

_ She smiled weakly, on her last breath whispering, "I will always love you." Her hand reached up, weightless, to touch his lips. Then, her eyes drifted closed. _

_ An inhuman cry pierced the night as Carlisle pounded his fists against the cement, splintering and cracking the material against his skin. _

**Thirteen. **Carlisle then went to his father, revealing his true nature. He told Esme, that his father had shaken his head, pushing him from the church, telling him to go. "I can not murder my own son." He had said. Carlisle had looked at his father, his fists crushing the handles of the doors in his hands. "I killed the woman I loved!" He yelled, trying to make his father see that he was a horrible monster. His father had shaken his head, his hand pushing blond hair from Carlisle's eyes. "Repent, son."

**Fourteen. **Carlisle had spent forty years as a vampire before he got word his father died. He had returned to the small church, claiming that he had a wife and a son, and secluding himself in his father's study. He had found a letter there, addressed to him.

_Carlisle, _

_ I write this letter with the heaviest of hearts. I have not seen you since the day you returned to me, asking me to take your life. I am an old man now, sick and frail, but I've a final thing I need to tell you. I knew what you were the second you came through the door. Your eyes were the most shocking burgundy. Please know this: I do not hold a single thing against you. Not the fact of what you are, not the fact of what you have done. I wish for you to know that I love you, and that I await your arrival in heaven. When I see you, I will embrace you, my son. Do something great with what you have been given. Do not let me down, Carlisle. _

_ I miss you more dearly everyday, _

_ Your Father _

**Fifteen. **Do something great with what you have been given. Seraphina is, Esme knew, the reason Carlisle made all of them go vegetarian. They would never be the savage killers their nature allowed them to be. Carlisle, becoming a doctor, was doing this very thing.

**Sixteen. **Esme knew that every day was a learning experience. Carlisle had had so few years to be human and so little room for error in his immortal life. Esme loved him, all of him. Every bad thing, every sad memory, every thing he loved, every thing he wanted, all of his immortal children. And she knew, as he kissed her after getting home from work, that he loved her just as much. They would live forever, they would all the time in the world. She knew few things about the future, she wasn't Alice after all. But the one thing she did know, was that she would continue to give him her heart and he would continue to keep it safe.


	6. Don't Come Easy

**Author's Note: First and foremost, I would like to apologize for the huge, immensely long wait. This chapter has taken a long time, and for that, I'm sorry. I've been going through some changes lately, trying to find my way, and find myself. I'm sorry this chapter took so long, but please enjoy. Without further ado... **

**Don't Come Easy **

_Fifteen Little Known Facts about Esme Ann Platt Cullen as Told by Carlisle Cullen _

**One. **Esme had always laughed off his comments about how effortless and beautiful she was. She would look him dead in the eyes, her brown eyes serious, "Nothing about my life has ever been effortless, Carlisle." In the beginning, he hadn't wanted to believe this. Being a romantic, Carlisle felt that love was supposed to be near effortless: a feeling that, once felt, couldn't be undone. But then, he thought about it and knew. Not even loving him had been entirely effortless. For her, in this moment, his heart broke.

**Two. **When a woman is abused, she locks every bit of herself (the salvageable bits) into a chest and throws the chest into the sea. She watches it sink into the purple, blue, black water and is reminded of bruises. For Esme, she hadn't seen any of herself as worth saving. Before Charles, she hadn't been worth anything to anyone. After Charles, she hadn't been worth anything to herself. "What was I supposed to do, Carlisle?" She would bite her plump lower lip. This lip, a bit plumper than her upper lip, gave her the appearance of a permanent pout. Carlisle found it irresistible. "You gave me the opportunity to save myself. I couldn't let myself down a second time." Carlisle liked to think he'd helped her save herself, but knew, looking at his strong wife, that taking all of the credit was wrong.

**Three. ** The first time Carlisle had bought Esme lingerie, it had been something pink. A baby doll, was what the saleswoman had called it. It had been a pink halter top with a completely see through thing attached below the breasts. This material, the transparent material, parted like curtains. He then bought her a pair of soft pink panties. Carlisle could think of nothing else but his beautiful new wife in this ensemble. Her confident new body. He'd presented it to Esme, proud of himself, not aware of the fear in her eyes. A half an hour of eager foot tapping later, Esme had emerged in the shirt he'd left in the bathroom, her pink panties peeking through the white fabric. He'd sat up on the bed, his eyes scanning her. She bit her lip, focusing on the floor. "I couldn't do it, Carlisle." He'd risen from the bed, understanding that he didn't understand anything about his new wife. Couldn't understand. Wrapping her up in his arms, he'd said exactly what was on his mind, "I think you look sexier in this anyway." He whispered.

**Four. ** Carlisle and Esme hadn't had sex for the first time on their wedding night. Instead, they'd spent the night laying in their large canopied bed, holding hands. Carlisle had been memorizing her. Memorizing the slope that led from her breasts to her petite hips. Memorizing the valley of cleavage in her simple wedding dress, and the way her lips looked when she was completely at peace. When his eyes had finally met her eyes, he smiled, bringing her hands to his lips and kissing them softly. "I've never loved anyone as much as I love you right now." She had blinked, her lips sliding into a smile.

**Five. **The next day she'd been gone.

**Six. **When Carlisle asked Edward about her sudden disappearance, Edward had just looked at Carlisle with a deep mixture of sadness and pity. Carlisle had resented Edward in that moment. Why was Edward not just telling Carlisle what he knew? Edward had left to go to his room and returned a moment later with a letter.

_Carlisle, _

_ For some reason, my past is difficult for me to forget when I am with you. This is why I left. I need to go somewhere and deal with my past, deal with all of the things I've done or tried to do to myself all by myself. I don't want you to be hurt by my pain. I don't want you to share it. I love you more and more with each passing day, Carlisle, and I want to be able to give myself to you. All of myself. _

_ I will be back. _

**Seven. **365 days. 8766 hours. 525949 minutes. Enough seconds that Carlisle didn't both counting. Then she was back.

"Where were you?" He remembers asking her, clutching her warm hands between his. "Where did you go?" He didn't admit to sending any of his children out looking for her. Didn't admit that Alice had kept tabs on her the whole time.

She smiled, and it seemed a whole weight had been lifted off of her shoulders. "I went back to Wisconsin. I just... needed to prove to myself that I had truly moved on." She moved around his desk, silently standing before him. "Can I...?

"Of course." Carlisle pulled her forward into his lap, knowing that this was her home.

Esme told him of how she'd gone back to her sister's house, how she'd sobbed on her baby's grave, apologizing for not being a good enough mother. "I wonder if I'll ever be a good mother."

Shocked, Carlisle sat forward, "They love you, Esme. Every single one of them loves you as a mother."

Esme shook her head. "I don't know why. I'm not a good mother, Carlisle. I'm not even a good wife." She whispered, wringing her hands.

"You are the best mother any of these children could have asked for. You accept every part of every one of them, even though they all have past mothers and pasts that sometimes weigh them down. They love you so much, Esme." He kissed her forehead, her hair. "You are the only woman for me. The only woman I see anymore, Esme."

**Eight. **She had been hesitant their first time. Her hands had been like bird's wings, the softest of touches against his skin. There had been nothing hesitant about the way Carlisle had tasted her. Esme had, when she was on that precipice, ready to jump, held Carlisle's neck, bringing his head to her's. "I've never loved anyone as much as I love you right now." She whispered.

**Nine. **Charles had abused her in every way possible. Verbally, physically, emotionally. Esme often told Carlisle that, after a time, she stopped fighting it. She knew that her enemy could strike back with much more force and anger, so she stopped. This was when she realized that she needed to get out of her relationship with Charles. She could no longer look in the mirror and recognize the woman gazing back at her.

**Ten. **One day in her garden, when Rosalie was still a young vampire, she had approached Esme. Carlisle witnessed the whole thing from the window of his study.

"Esme...?" Rosalie sank onto the grass beside the caramel haired woman, her hands twisting in her lap. "Can I talk to you?"

Esme brushed off her hands, facing her daughter. She simply smiled up at Rosalie, taking the younger woman's hands in hers. "What's wrong, Rose?"

"How do you forget?" Rosalie looked at the grass, her hands grasping Esme's. Looking for some sort of anchor so she didn't lose herself in the ocean of her past. "How do forget what he did to you?"

"Rosalie." Esme's voice came out choked, and Carlisle, though he knew they needed to have this discussion, longed to give Esme the comfort he knew she needed. "Oh, Rosalie." She pulled Rose into a hug, laying her head on top of the blond girl's. "You can never forget."  
"Emmett.. I can't... I want... I need to give him all of myself. But I can't. There's this part of me that he could never understand." Rosalie's arms would around Esme, holding her tightly. "Help me, mom."

Esme was jolted. Jolted by her use of the 'mom'. Jolted by the way she completely understood even the parts that Rosalie could not articulate. "He can't ever completely understand, but he can provide you with comfort. With love. Emmett may not ever be able to completely heal your heart, but he will help you begin to heal you in every other way." Esme kissed her head, holding her back at arm's length.

"How do I forget? How is this even fair to Emmett?"

"You can't forget. And it isn't fair to Emmett." Esme half smiled, her hand cupping Rose's cheek. She silently marveled at how beautiful her daughter was, at how soft and open her eyes were in this moment. Esme couldn't help but feel a rush of maternal instinct."But Emmett loves you enough to want to know about you. What Royce did to you is a huge part of you. He needs to hear it." Esme leaned forward. "I don't think you want to forget what happened to you. I think you want to seal it away, so no one else has to deal with it. You think people are dealing with you. Emmett isn't dealing with you. And you need to tell those that care about you." She smiled. "It isn't about forgetting for me. It's about making light of it. It's about seeing all of the beautiful things that came out of such a horrible thing."

**Eleven. **Esme had gone back to Wisconsin one more time. She'd said that she couldn't find closure unless she knew that, for sure, beyond a shadow of doubt, Charles was gone. When she came back, she'd locked herself in their bedroom for two days. Carlisle had gone in, on the second day, and found her sitting in a chair, gazing out the window.

"Are you okay?" He'd sank onto the bed, exhausted after a long shift in the Emergency Room.

She nodded. "I saw Royce's grave in New York too." There was something so quiet, something so sad about her voice that Carlisle nearly broke for her. "I wanted to sink my hands into his throat and strangle him. I wanted to kill him again. I wanted to murder him. Just like Rosalie did." Esme turned to look at him. "How could someone hurt a girl so beautiful?"

"That's exactly why he hurt her, Esme." Carlisle kneeled in front of her, understanding that she was asking why she had gotten hurt but willing to play along. "He broke her spirit, because nothing else could,"

She'd reached forward, clutching at Carlisle's body. "I'm still broken." She whispered.

**Twelve. **Esme could play the cello. This had nearly shocked Carlisle into silence. He'd asked her why she never mentioned it, asked her why she hadn't played for any of them. She smiled, grasping his hand and leading him back into the auditorium where the orchestra was warming up and tuning. "I didn't realize how much I'd missed it."

**Thirteen. **He'd gone out with Edward and purchased a cello. A beautiful, old, dark wood cello. Esme played out in her garden, her pale fingers moving with surprising fluidity over the instrument. Carlisle realized she hadn't mentioned this about herself, because she hadn't thought it was salvageable.

**Fourteen. **Emmett had approached Esme about Rosalie when she was in their bedroom, making the bed.

"Hey, Esme." Emmett threw himself onto the bed, ruffling up Esme's perfectly tucked sheets with no creases.

She'd continued to go about her small tasks in their room, understanding that Emmett needed to tell her what was on his mind on his own time. When she was putting away Emmett's boxers, he'd surprised her by sitting up and facing her.

"How do I help her?" He asked quietly, his head in his hands. "I feel like she withdraws into herself, and I can't touch her. How am I supposed to help her if she won't let me? Some days, I feel like we're making all of this progress, like she might actually let me love her. I just want to help her." Emmett ruffled up his curls, all of his boyish buoyancy gone. "I can't keep getting pushed away."

Esme understood that it was hard for Emmett to continue getting rejected, both for his ego and for his mindset about the whole relationship. He may have felt like they were doomed, and while Esme understood that both Emmett and Rosalie were unique individuals with unique pasts, she didn't think it very fair of Rosalie to continue pushing this beautiful young boy away. But maybe that was just her maternal instinct, because she knew she'd pushed Carlisle away countless times. She rose from the drawer where she was putting away Rosalie's pajamas and went over to kneel in front of her boy.

"Emmett, this isn't your fault." Esme held his strong face in her hands, marveling at the smooth perfection of Emmett's jaw and skin. "You are an amazing, beautiful, strong boy." He smiled, silently putting his hand over her's. "Rosalie has to figure out how much pushing you away is hurting you, and she has to do it on her own time. You can't punish her for trying to work through her past, but she shouldn't be punishing you for wanting her to talk to you either."  
Emmett nodded. "So... I let her talk? But also let her pull away if she needs to?"

Esme smiled. "It's the only way, I'm afraid."

**Fifteen. **Carlisle thought that every single bit of Esme was salvageable. Every single part of her personality, every single part of her past was worth his time and attention, because without Esme, he was no one. He was nothing. He had nothing. His children had no mother. His children had no one to give them advice. One night, Esme was sitting in his lap, and Carlisle remembered their conversation about how Esme had to put effort into everything she did. Carlisle smiled, leaning in and kissing her pouty little mouth. "Esme?"

She hummed in the back of her mouth. "Hm?"

He smiled, pleased with himself. "Being a mother is effortless for you."

Esme turned to him, her golden eyes wide. After a moment, she chuckled, laying her head back against his chest. "I suppose it is."


End file.
